


The Scoop

by trascendenza



Category: Superman Returns (2006)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-03
Updated: 2007-04-03
Packaged: 2017-10-03 17:20:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trascendenza/pseuds/trascendenza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Jason White was six years old and ready to begin his career in journalism.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Scoop

**Author's Note:**

> Written for 1_900_mimicry's request. Thanks to tinheart for the beta and practically co-writing!

Jason White was six years old and ready to begin his career in journalism.

All the supplies were laid out before him: a steno pad ("borrowed" from Clark's desk), a pencil (sharpened and everything), a small black recorder (that he didn't actually have a tape for, but that wasn't the important part) and a pair of glasses. He didn't need glasses, but his dad and mom wore them when they were reading, so when Suzie from art class had bought a new pair, he traded her his best model airplane for her old ones.

They were a little more pink than Clark's, and more square than his mom's (plus, he had to take the lenses out to wear them so he wouldn't get a headache), but it sure had been worth it.

He put the glasses on (pushing them into place just like he'd seen Clark do, pressing them right up to his eyebrows), picked up the pad in one hand and the recorder in the other.

Time to start research for his first article.

*

For his debut into the arena of reporting, he'd decided to start with a human interest piece: a day in the life of a famous pilot, namely one Mr. White (though mostly Jason just knew him as daddy).

He started by having a in-depth heart to heart conversation with his second best model airplane, inquiring about things like wind sharing and velocitation. The plane was happy to divulge the secrets of the skies to him, and he diligently took notes about how rain storms were a plane's version of a shower in his pad. That he didn't know how to write was besides the point: his careful swirls and pictures, drawn with tongue sticking out of his mouth, were quite sufficient to get down essence of the interview.

Next, he called the office and did a brief phone interview with Ms. Lane, nodding seriously when she recounted stories of loop-de-loos through the Metropolis sky line and other exciting tales from the life of a co-pilot. He thanked her kindly and drew an arresting portrait of her black curls blowing out to the side just above a pilot's scarf.

In between a re-run of _The Nanny_ and _I Love Lucy_, he questioning his babysitter Tammy about airplanes, but she'd never been flying, so she made him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich instead. Jason smiled hugely at her, still overjoyed at the novelty of being able to eat nuts.

They ate out on the pier and when Tammy started talking on her cell phone Jason wandered around, hoping maybe he'd find a sea gull. He wanted to know if they needed gas like his dad's plane Marina did, but they all flapped away before he could get close enough to hold up his recorder.

Scuffing his feet along the salted wood, he was pondering going inside to play with the new building set his mom had bought him when he looked up and saw Marina.

Of _course_.

"Nothing beats first hand experience, kiddo," his uncle Perry always told him.

He looked back and saw that Tammy was still busy on her phone. Pushing the glasses up his nose, he went inside to get the keys to Marina.

*

Craning his head up, he looked at the pilot's door far above. He'd climbed up there plenty of times with his dad, but it seemed a lot higher now that he was doing it himself.

Sticking the recorder in his back pocket and the steno pad in his shirt pocket, he made his way up very slowly and carefully. He'd gotten a lot stronger recently—even Johnny, the bully at school who liked to push him out of the way in lines, had noticed. It wasn't like Jason threw balls any harder or ran any faster or anything, but he was… more _solid._ So even when the wind blew a little as his fingers clung to the cold metal of the plane, he didn't wobble at all.

And when he finally reached the summit, he stood there smiling for a moment, sure his uncle Perry would be proud of his "plucky determination."

He took out the key and stood up on his tip toes, trying to reach the lock.

*

One the one hand, there was a man tugging very insistently on Clark's tie and climbing into lap.

And there was _kissing_. Desperate, breathless and fervent kissing. The sort of kissing that Clark had never partaken of before he'd met Richard and certainly couldn't get enough of now that he'd been introduced to it.

On the other hand—the hand that he was not fond of, at the moment—he heard something.

And, really, he ought to spare at least a tiny bit of attention to check out what it was—

But then there was _Richard_, and Richard was _kissing_ him, and—

He was sure it could wait just a minute.

*  
There were times in his life that Clark had moved fast. He'd stopped missiles, caught planes, even changed the rotation of the Earth, once (and you had to move _really_ fast to manage that, believe you him). But never had he moved as fast as he did right now, when he realized that the plane door was opening and _that was Jason's heartbeat about to come in._

Straightening himself up wasn't too hard—he was invulnerable and didn't have to worry about how fast he did it. Richard was a completely different matter; he had to be sure he didn't move too fast for fear of bruising, and had to pay special attention when he placed Richard in the pilot's seat.

But by the time Jason had stepped inside, his head quirked to one side and a pair of pink glasses half falling down his nose, Clark had managed to get them into a reasonable amount of shape.

He let his head drop back against the head rest of the co-pilot's seat, heaving a sigh.

*

"Daddy!" He cried out, running forward and jumping into his dad's lap.

"Hi, Mr. Clark," he added, waving at him.

He hadn't expected anyone to be in here, but accepted the new development with aplomb; after all, what five year old would question the appearance of his father and one of his best friends?

"Jason, buddy, what are you doing here?" His dad said, running a hand through his hair. "I thought Tammy was watching you this afternoon." His voice sounded a little funny, like the times when Jason would run into his parents' room during a lightning storm when they'd all still lived together and his dad would say, _we're so glad to see you, buddy, but next time could you please remember to knock first?_

"We were just having lunch," Clark said, suddenly, and sort of loudly, too.

"I had peanut butter and jelly," Jason offered, looking back and forth, waiting for his dad or Clark to tell him what they had.

His dad looked like he was trying not to laugh. "What Clark means is, we were on our _way_ to get lunch."

"Right. On our way. Because, um, it's lunch time."

Jason's brow scrunched up. His dad's heartbeat was so _loud_, like yesterday at school when they were in P.E. and he had to go to the bathroom because there was too much pounding in his ears.

"You don't look like you were running," Jason said.

"Running?" Clark repeated, his eyes really big.

"Yeah, it only gets loud like that when people run or jump or stuff."

Clark pulled at the knot of his tie; his dad started laughing and asked, "what gets loud, Jason?"

Jason pointed at his dad's chest.

Then his dad got really quiet, and stopped laughing, and looked a little bit like a statue.

After a few minutes, he said slowly, "So, Clark. What do you say we get this kid some pizza?"

Jason looked up at him worshipfully. Mom _never_ let him have pizza.

Clark smiled, and stopped fidgeting with his tie. "I think I could go for some ice cream, too."

"And what do you say, kiddo?"

Jason nodded gleefully, pushed his glasses up his nose and threw his arms around his dad's neck.

Pizza _and_ ice cream. Wow.

He was pretty sure he was going to like being a reporter.


End file.
